An Imitation of Life
by PJW
Summary: He was even more intrigued than before. He shouldn’t be, that much was obvious. Developing an obsession, no matter how innocent, with your brother’s girlfriend was never a good idea. But it was pure insanity when the woman was Temperance Brennan.


**An Imitation of Life**

_Disclaimer: Prop. of FOX, Hart Hanson, Kathy Reichs_

_A/N: My take on how the series could have begun. Not consistent with _Bones _canon; just for fun…_

"I hate this case. No motive. No murder weapon. A few suspects but no evidence to keep them in jail. And a dead body laid flat in the morgue growing colder by the second." Seeley Booth groaned and shut the file lying on the counter before him. He picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee, willing himself to hold on to the last vestiges of energy he had after working through the night.

"I already told you, Seel. All you have to do is say the word and I'll have my girlfriend take a look at it," Jared offered, smirking across the table at his older brother.

Booth groaned. "I still can't believe you're dating a squint."

"She's a genius," Jared replied, taking a sip of orange juice between bites of scrambled egg.

"Can't be all that smart if she's dating you. She'll come to her senses eventually and be sprinting out the door."

"Hey, man. We've been dating for three months," Jared defended. "She ain't running away from nothing."

"I'll believe it when I see it. For all I know, you're making her up."

"It's not _my _fault you've never met. You keep bailing on us every time I suggest we all go out."

"Don't pin this on me," Booth replied, stabbing his fork in the direction of his brother's face. "I left work early last Friday to meet you two at the bar. And _she's _the one who didn't show. What was the excuse again?"

"She was working late."

Booth threw an unconvinced look across the table. "Uh huh. Sure. Who works late on a Friday night?"

Jared shrugged. "My hot, genius, very busy and important girlfriend," he replied confidently.

Booth still looked skeptical.

"Anyway," Jared added. "I was thinking of bringing her to Parker's soccer game this weekend."

"Really?"

"Sure. I mean, sports aren't really her thing. Neither are kids. Or being lazy on the weekends. But I figure, hey, why not?"

Booth swallowed and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "I think you just pointed out three very good reasons why not."

"It'll be fine." Jared waved his hand dismissively and drained the last of his orange juice, leaving only a trace of pulp in the bottom of the glass.

"Whatever. Just make sure she doesn't ruin this for Parker, okay? He's really excited you're coming to watch him play."

"Duly noted." Jared stood up and straightened his tie. "Well, I'm off, bro. I've got meetings to blow off and important people to suck up to. You--" he raised an eyebrow appraisingly as he took in his brother's wrinkled suit and tired eyes "may want to go home and take a shower. You're looking distinctly sloppy. Can't have you wandering around DC looking a mess and giving the Booth's a bad rep."

Booth balled up his napkin and threw it at Jared's head. "Ass."

"See you Saturday at the game!" Jared called cheerfully. "Lock my door on the way out, yeah?"

Booth took a bitter sip of coffee and shook his head, his thoughts still lingering on his brother's girlfriend, who he would _finally _be meeting. Maybe. If she showed up. He had a few doubts. Jared had made a dozen plans over the past three months for his brother to meet his girlfriend but none of them had come to fruition, almost always due to the doctor's tendency to work at odd and inconvenient hours of both day and night. Jared had taken Booth's teasing in stride and in lieu of their failed meetings, filled his older brother in on Temperance as best he could. How she was the smartest person he knew. How she was stunningly beautiful. How she worked for the Jeffersonian Institute, taught grad students, traveled to various countries, gave presentations at conferences and colleges across the world, and still found time to crank out a New York Times bestseller.

Booth had laughed when Jared first mentioned he was going to ask out a squint, already writing it off as a disaster. But when his younger brother had come back from that first date wide-eyed and wearing the most ridiculous, already head-over-heels grin on his face, Booth had taken note. And the more Jared told him, the more Booth was intrigued, and not a little confused, as to how someone who was supposedly a genius would fall for his little brother's quick charm and flippant attitude towards life. So he did what any self-respecting FBI agent would do: disregard Bureau policy and unethically look her up in the system. He figured half a dozen results would pop up, things related to the Jeffersonian or maybe an errant traffic ticket. And he did find some of that. Well, not the traffic ticket. But there was a pretty thick record of her work with the Jeffersonian, sometimes cross-linked to various projects associated with other institutions around the globe.

What he wasn't prepared for were several dozen results that weren't accessible to his decently high clearance level. Clicking on various tabs marked "Brennan, Dr. Temperance" resulted only in a blank page save the bold headline "Classified" and a box prompting an ID and password that rejected Booth's apparently under-qualified clearance. His failed attempts at accessing these files had left him uneasy and confused. Queries placed to his superiors as to the nature of Dr. Brennan's work for the FBI had been met with varying results, most responses hovering around "I worked with her once. Worst three weeks of my life" accompanied by a shudder and quick tremble or, if he was speaking to one of the higher-ups, a forthright, "Dr. Brennan's work with the FBI is both imperative and highly classified. Now get the fuck out of my office."

He quickly decided to take a more benign approach that was less likely to get him demoted and simply looked at her profile on the Jeffersonian website. It was immediately clear that Jared had at least not lied about one thing: she _was _stunning. She was smiling in the posted picture, although years of cataloguing people's body language and emotions had given Booth the skill to note that the slight wrinkles between her brows betrayed her false happiness. There was something in her eyes, beautiful even through the computer screen, that gave Booth the impression she was bored, and her quirked smile gave off an air of merely humoring whoever had ordered this picture to be taken, as if she was only suffering through the ridiculousness of this required procedure so she could get back to something more important as quickly as possible.

And so Booth had continued to listen to Jared's selective reports on Temperance Brennan, teasing his younger brother when needed, but always filing away the information learned into a small corner of his mind, as if somehow knowing things about her would be important to him someday.

----------

"Remind me again why I'm here and not at the lab?" Temperance Brennan slipped her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and frowned.

"Because there's nothing I like better than waking up early on a Saturday morning and watching my nephew run around a muddy soccer field. And you, being a model girlfriend, are here to cheer on the little guy like the soccer mom I know you are dying to be." Jared grinned and locked the car doors with the press of a button as he glanced at the series of fields spread before them.

Brennan glared.

"Okay," he conceded with a shrug and a smile. "I need to win some points with my brother and there's no better way than by making his kid happy. He wanted me to come, so I'm here. And I'm dragging you along because I don't want to be bored. Besides, you still haven't met Seeley." He slung an arm around her shoulders. "He said they'd be on field 7. Over there, I think." He pointed.

Brennan shook her head, but allowed him to guide her towards the patch of blue and red jerseys. "You know, you're always trying to get on your brother's good side and never quite making it. Why is that?"

Jared shrugged in an effort at casualty, but his girlfriend could see the gloom settle in his eyes and the slightest tightening of his jaw. She knew Jared and his brother's relationship was rocky at times -- mostly joking and caring as brothers tend to be, but underlined with a tension that silently spoke of issues going back many years. She was interested in seeing the dynamic between the two firsthand.

"There's Seeley over on the bleachers. Let's go." His hand tightened on her shoulder as he steered her forward.

As they approached the group of parents, an amused smile appeared on Brennan's face as she observed the different parenting styles on display. Some of the moms and dads were lounging on the bleachers talking to each other, barely glancing at the game. They had a slightly bored aura that hinted they'd already been through the soccer ordeal with their older children and now spent the required games not watching with charmed attention but swapping gossip and bitching about the newest members of the PTA. Others were standing at the very edge of the field, their toes just hitting the white line painted on the ground, shouting both over-zealous encouragement and disheartening dismay at the progressing game. Brennan wasn't one to deter the pursuit of perfection and success, but it made her uneasy when parents became obsessed with the scores, statistics, and standings of a sport played by children in elementary school.

Seeley Booth, Brennan noted, fit into neither group. He was sitting relaxed on the bleachers but his eyes were watching the field intently, darting back and forth following the movement of a curly blond haired boy she assumed must be Parker. He called out encouragement or support when needed, but was obviously not one of the parents who got banned from the game by the ref for harassing both players and coaches. She had been watching Seeley Booth for one minute and thirteen seconds and was already completely sure he was an excellent father.

"Seeley!" Jared called, waving a hand as his brother looked over.

A smile broke out on the father's face and he gestured for them to join him, scooting down to give them room to sit. Brennan felt his eyes slide from Jared over to her where they made a quick scan as if cataloguing an inventory of her very being before settling on her face. For some reason, the intensity of his gaze made her blush.

Jared ushered her into the row of bleachers and she found herself sitting between the two brothers and quite uncertain of what to say.

A hand was extended towards her. "Seeley Booth."

"Temperance Brennan." She shook his hand, pleased to find he had a firm, steady grasp. She distrusted people with weak handshakes. She wasn't quite sure why, but something about a limp handshake gave her the creeps.

Jared reached around her and punched his brother on the shoulder. "Told you she was real."

Booth grinned. "Real? Yeah, I already knew that. The question that needs to be answered here" he grinned at Brennan "is how much you had to pay her to show up and pretend she actually likes you."

Jared just laughed but Brennan found herself frowning. "Why would you pay me to pretend I like you? I _do _like you."

"Ha!" Jared exclaimed triumphantly. "Straight from the mouth that never lies. How's that for a scientific, corroborated fact, Seeley?"

"Since when do you care about scientific fact? I thought it was all about bending truths to aid in convenient perception."

"Ha ha," Jared replied dryly. "So, what's the score?"

Booth's eyes quickly tracked back to the field and searched for jersey number 9. "Zero to zero so far. They only started ten minutes ago, not that it matters. There's not much scoring at this level. Mostly it's just--ouch! That looked like it hurt." The three adults cringed as a kid on the other team tripped over his feet and fell face first into a puddle of sludgy muck.

The rest of the game followed in a similar fashion. More effort was spent trying to get as muddy as possible than trying to dribble, pass, and score goals. When the final whistle blew, the score still stood 0-0 as the kids lined up to slap hands with the opposing team. Two minutes of coach announcements later, a blob of mud that slightly resembled Parker Booth came pelting towards the bleachers, a juice box in one hand and an orange slice in the other.

"Dad! Dad! Did you see me fall right at the beginning? I tripped over Joey cause he was supposed to be a half-back on the right side but he was over in my area on the left and we both went for the ball but it's crazy slippery out there, so we both fell down but Joey only got mud on his hands and knees and I fell flat on my face so I got way more dirty and then later I--"

"Breathe, Park," Booth reminded, an amused but proud smirk on his face as he examined his thoroughly dirty but very satisfied son.

Parker took a dramatic gulp of air.

Booth chuckled. "Did you see who came to watch you play?"

"Jared!" Parker cried, launching himself towards his uncle just as Booth grabbed the back of his jersey and held him in place so as to spare Jared the dry-cleaning bill.

"Hey, buddy. We were watching you out there. Those were some fantastic falls. Really spectacular." Parker giggled. "I suppose your soccer skills weren't too shabby either," Jared added, bumping his nephew's fist lightly with his own. "Hey, there's someone I want you to meet."

Jared took Brennan's hand and nudged her forward. "Park, this is my girlfriend, Temperance Brennan. Tempe, this is my nephew, the soccer superstar, Parker Booth."

Parker looked up at her, a half shy smile on his face. "Hi."

Brennan knelt down and smiled. "Nice to meet you Parker. You did a very good job. The few times you managed to actually kick the ball, your aim was quite good."

Jared chuckled at the somewhat backhanded compliment while Booth opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it a moment later, an odd look on his face as he studied the woman kneeling in front of his son. Parker simply smiled a little wider and took another sip of his juice box. "Thanks."

"So," Booth said, clapping his hands together once. "We're headed back to my house for some lunch. You two interested?"

Jared glanced at Brennan, who stood up and nodded. "Absolutely. I think--"

"Jared Booth!" The group turned and saw a man about Jared's age walking towards them with a blue-shirted, muddy boy trailing behind him.

Jared broke out into a grin. "Sammy Heckler. It's been forever. How are you, man?" He walked a few paces away to greet his friend.

Booth looked down at his son. "Alright, Parks. Hop over to the car and get your cleats off. And sit on the blanket; I don't want you getting mud all over the seats."

"Seeley!" Jared called. "Seeley, get over here. Sammy was just reminding me of that camping trip we went on where--"

Booth glanced at Brennan. "Would you mind watching Parker for a second? I'm just going to say hello and I'll be right back."

"Sure, that's fine." She gave him a quick smile and walked over to the car where Parker was struggling to simultaneously sip on his juice box, pull off his cleats, and remain standing.

Brennan couldn't help but grin. She wasn't at her most comfortable around children, but she couldn't deny that they were fascinating to observe and okay, she'd admit it, they were pretty cute sometimes. She opened the car door and saw a worn blanket lying across the seats. "Parker, why don't you sit up here and finish your juice box and I'll get these shoes off for you."

"Okay." Parker clambered onto the seat without hesitation and stuck out his foot towards Brennan.

She rested his tiny cleat against her thigh as she worked on the knotted shoelace.

"What's your name again?" Parker questioned, chewing lightly on the straw.

"Temperance Brennan."

"That's long. But I like it. It's pretty."

"Thank you."

"I bet no one else has your name. You're like me. I'm lucky too because I'm the only one in my school named Parker. I've got two friends named Michael, and there are a million boys named John and James at my school."

"A million, huh?" Brennan couldn't help but smile at the child's exaggeration as she eased his first shoe off and began on the other.

"At least. Maybe a bazillion-trillion-million," he said seriously. "Do you know anyone else named Temperance?"

"No, I don't know anyone else with my name, although statistically…" she trailed off. "You can call me Tempe if you want."

"Is that what Uncle Jared calls you?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you ever play soccer, Tempe?"

"Not on a team. But my brother played with his friends in our backyard when I was younger. I liked to play with them sometimes."

"Were you good?"

Brennan smiled. "Not really," she admitted, pulling off the second cleat.

Parker grinned and wiggled his toes, still encased in long, blue soccer socks that were coated in quickly drying mud. "Thanks, Tempe."

"You're welcome." She glanced around to locate Jared and found Booth staring at her intently. And just like before, she felt a confusing and unwelcome blush steal across her cheeks. She watched his mouth move but was unable to hear the words coming from his lips. His eyes never broke from hers as he made his way away from Jared and Sammy and back towards her and his son.

"Dad!" Parker called, when his father reached the car. "Tempe played soccer when she was little too. But not on a team. And she wasn't good at all."

"Parker, that's not very nice," Booth admonished gently.

"She told me dad. Right, Tempe? You told me you were no good." He looked to her for confirmation.

She smiled. "I did say that." She lifted up her hands, holding the cleats. "Where did you want these?"

"Oh, I'll get those." Booth grabbed them before chucking them into the trunk. "Thanks for helping. The knots are usually too tight for Parker to undo. They give us all these reminders about double and triple knotting shoelaces to keep the kids from tripping during games." He rolled his eyes. "As if that will actually prevent them from falling all over each other on the field." He smiled. "You didn't have to do that, though. You got all dirty." He gestured to her hands and jeans which were now streaked with bits of mud and grass.

Brennan shrugged. "I do own a washer and dryer you know."

"Yeah, well. You're a heck of a lot more helpful than my brother. He wouldn't get near a muddy kid with a ten foot pole."

"What about a ten foot pole?" Jared joined the conversation and wrapped his arm around Brennan.

"Nothing," Seeley sighed.

"So are we going to eat or what? I'm starving!"

"Uncle Jared, we were waiting for _you_!" Parker shouted.

"Well, I'm here now, my man. So let's get going."

Booth buckled Parker in and shut the door. "See you at my house in fifteen?"

"Sure."

----------

"So, I have a confession to make." Seeley Booth looked up guiltily over the top of the grill and smiled sheepishly at the woman who was lounging in a chair on his patio.

"Oh?" Brennan questioned, feeling a little uneasy. She glanced towards the house, hoping Jared would waltz out the back door and save her from making small talk to this quirky, charming man. Her boyfriend usually had a knack for popping up and interrupting her conversations. But of course now that she actually _wanted_ him to interrupt he was no where in sight.

Booth picked up a spatula and expertly flipped over a burger, nudging a rather crispy one to a cooler section of the grill. "I looked you up in the system."

"What?" Whatever Brennan had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"At work. I'm an FBI agent. You knew that, right?" He glanced up to see her staring at him. She nodded. "Yeah well, Jared had been dating you for a while and we still hadn't met so I used my access to FBI databases to see if I could find anything about you."

Brennan frowned. "You couldn't just ask Jared?"

Booth chuckled. "Believe me, I didn't need to ask. He talks about you non-stop. But all I was getting from him were generic monologues about how wonderful you were and I admit I was intrigued to know a bit more."

"Hmm." Brennan absently picked up a fork from the plate in front of her and twirled it between her fingers.

Booth took in her cool, detached demeanor. "You don't seem too concerned that I could have an exorbitant amount of information on all your darkest secrets."

Brennan raised an eyebrow skeptically. "No, I'm not concerned."

"Why not?" He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little disappointed that she didn't seem worried he could have accessed those classified files.

"Because I seriously doubt you have a high enough clearance level to read any of my files that are worth looking at. And if you _had_ somehow managed to gain access to them, you would know better than to discuss what you'd read and I would hope you'd also have the sense to know there's not a chance I'd ever talk about any of that with you. Sorry to disappoint you, but your Special Agent status isn't even close to being significant enough to know about the skeletons in my closet. And believe me, the lock on that door can't be picked open- not by sucking up to your superiors, not by begging Jared, not by flashing your badge, and certainly not by bringing up the subject to me over a heart attack-inducing meal of hamburgers and potato chips."

Booth stared at her, holding the spatula and looking bewildered, as if he couldn't quite remember how he had ended up in this place, having this conversation with this woman. Then he did the only thing he could possibly think of doing at that moment. He laughed. He couldn't help it. It seemed absurd that his brother's girlfriend was casually sitting out on his patio threatening _him_, an FBI Agent, while simultaneously managing to insult his eating habits. But he didknow she was serious. He knew he would never find out what was in those files unless she _wanted_ him to know. And, despite the warning sirens blaring in his head, he knew he was even more intrigued than before. He shouldn't be, that much was obvious. Developing an obsession, no matter how innocent, with your brother's girlfriend was _never_ a good idea. But it was pure insanity when the woman in question was Temperance Brennan. And yet…

"Why are you laughing?"

His chuckled faded and he turned his attention back to the grill. "I don't know. Never mind."

She shrugged.

"These are just about done." Booth flipped the last burger. "You want to try the first one?"

Brennan shook her head. "I'm a vegetarian."

His head snapped up. "Shit! I remember Jared telling me that. I completely forgot. Why didn't you say anything? I could have picked up some veggie burgers or--"

"It's okay, really." She smiled. "I was just planning on having the fruit salad and some of those potato chips."

"The heart attack-inducing ones, you mean?" he teased.

"Ha Ha," she said dryly as she pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'm going inside to tell Jared and Parker the food's ready." She didn't wait for him to reply.

Brennan opened the back door and stepped inside. The house was quiet and she stood still in his kitchen for a moment, letting the cool darkness steal over her skin, slide through her veins, and soothe her fevered thoughts and fears. He had looked her up in the FBI database. Why had he done that? He said he'd been intrigued. Intrigued about what? What could possibly make him want to go through the effort of looking up information about her? And what exactly had he found out? She hadn't lied when she told him he didn't have clearance to access the most, to use his word, _intriguing_ files. And if he _had_ read the things written there- the things she'd done, the things she'd seen- he certainly wouldn't have brought it up. In fact, she was pretty sure he wouldn't have let her into his house, and definitely not anywhere near his son.

But even if he hadn't read about the worst of it, there was still information to be found in open files that she didn't want anyone to know. There were clues in those files that anyone could find. Names. Locations. Dates. If someone wanted to put the clues together, they could. She knew, had always known, that someday someone would become curious. Would want to find out more. Find out the truth. She had thought, when she first began working at the Jeffersonian, that Dr. Hodgins- with his conspiracy theories, distrust of the government, and resources that only men of a certain income bracket have- would possibly find out more than she wanted him to know. And he had, in fact, dug up a few things that should have stayed buried. But in the end, his loyalty to her, his respect for her, meant more than satisfying his own curiosity. He had abandoned his searches immediately upon her request and had never once made an attempt to gain information about her past that she did not willingly give. Dr. Hodgins aside, Brennan had never felt her secrets were threatened before now. And she would have never in a million years expected the threat to appear in the form of her boyfriend's charming older brother.

The sound of muted laughter shook her from her reverie and she blinked several times in the afternoon darkness of the shuttered room. Following the noise, she headed up a short flight of stairs and into a messy bedroom that could only belong to a young boy. Jared and Parker were lounging on the floor playing a game of cards. By the sizable stack haphazardly piled next to Parker, she assumed Jared was letting him win. Or perhaps the boy was just that good. After all, she knew Jared would find it hard to lose, even to his nephew.

"Hey Tempe." Parker said as he flipped down an 8 and slapped the deck just as Jared glanced up to see Brennan in the doorway.

"Cheater," Jared mumbled as he watched Parker collect another large pile.

"The food is ready. You guys hungry?" Temperance asked.

"Yes!" Parker squealed, abandoning the game and jetting out of the room.

Jared stood up and smiled. "Finally. I thought I'd be stuck losing card games all afternoon. What were you and Seeley talking about for so long?"

Brennan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "None of your business," she said briskly.

Jared laughed, but didn't press the matter. He knew her too well to try and pry anything from her lips that she didn't want to share. He took her hand in his and led her downstairs back to the patio.

They found father and son already digging into their hamburgers, a smear of ketchup on the little boy's left cheek.

"Wansmipsempe?"

"Eww, Park. That's gross. Swallow before talking," Booth chided.

Parker took a dramatic swallow and smiled widely. "Want some chips, Tempe?"

"Sure." She sat down next to him and let him pile the crisps onto her plate as she reached for the bowl of fruit salad.

"Here, give me that." Booth held out his hand towards Brennan to accept her plate.

He stood up and went over to the grill, sliding a perfectly seared, deluxe, grilled cheese sandwich onto her plate before setting it down on the table before her. "And before you ask, I cooked it on the part of the grill that didn't have the hamburgers so there's so meat juice on it and no excuse not to eat the entire thing."

"Oh!" She looked up at him in surprise. "Thank you. You really didn't have to do that."

"It wasn't any trouble." He laid his hand gently on her shoulder for just a moment and she was shocked to find that she didn't tense up at his touch. "Besides," he added "I owed you an apology."

He didn't go into detail, and she didn't need him to. She knew he was trying to make up for prying into her files and she found, to her surprise, that she honestly wanted to forgive him. "Thanks."

"Apology? Apology for what?" Jared inquired, head turning between the two as if he were watching a tennis match.

"None of your business," Brennan repeated before Booth could reply.

"You've been saying that a lot today," Jared mentioned before glancing at Booth to see if he would elaborate.

The older brother just shrugged.

"I need a glass of water," Brennan stated, effectively ending the discussion.

"You want me to…" Booth gestured to the house.

"I've got it." Brennan stood up and looked at Parker. "Want to show me where the cups are?"

He nodded, hopped off his chair, took Brennan's hand, and led her inside.

"Way to go, idiot," Booth admonished once Brennan was out of sight.

"What? All I did was ask a simple question. Now _you're_ going to get on my case too? What is it with you today? Making Tempe a special sandwich, saying apologizes, offering to get her water…"

"I'm just being nice."

"Yeah well, go be nice to someone else's girlfriend. Or better yet, go get your own girlfriend to be nice to."

"Why do you have to be such an ass?"

"Why do you have to try and please every single person you meet? Not everyone has to like you, you know."

"Oh, here we go again. Just because _you_ can't help but be rude all the time doesn't mean I'm sucking up whenever I'm actually nice to someone."

"Oh, that's right. I'm the jerk. And you're the perfect, polite, golden boy. Some things never change, I guess."

"Can we just…_not_ do this right now?"

"Yeah, whatever." Jared pushed back his chair and folded his arms across his chest, staring daggers out into Booth's small yard.

Booth sighed once, grabbed Parker's empty plate, and carried it into the kitchen. Not seeing Brennan or Parker, he peeked his head into the living room. She was sitting on the couch, his most recent case file spread out on the coffee table before her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

She didn't glance up, clearly unembarrassed at being caught red-handed snooping through a confidential FBI file.

"You're not allowed to look at that." Booth moved to grab the file but she batted his hand away.

"Don't be ridiculous. I think we've already established I have higher clearance than you. I've examined bodies for the FBI before, Seeley. Not to mention all the work I've done for them in various countries around the--"

"Yeah, yeah. So Jared's told me. I don't care what level of clearance you've got. You don't have _my _permission to look at _my _file." He didn't know why he was being rude to her all of a sudden. Jared, he supposed. No one could get him annoyed and tense faster than his younger brother.

"I could help--"

"I don't need your help. Killed after being stabbed four times. Not all that hard to figure out, Temperance."

"Well, killed after being stabbed _once_, you mean."

"Right, and the other three wounds are just there for decoration," he shot back sarcastically.

Brennan shrugged. "Basically. Decoration, disguise. Same thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's quite obvious. See the blood coagulation here and here?" She traced her finger over one of the glossy photos. "I can't be positive, obviously, without examining the body in my lab, but you can see how the blood coagulation is different along these three stab wounds than it is around this fourth one."

Booth leaned over the photo and squinted down at it. "I don't know what that means."

"Well, this body is somewhat decomposed and I'm not an expert when it comes to blood and flesh, you'd be better off conferring with my boss, but from my knowledge and what I observe in this photo, I would say that this wound was made three to four hours before the other three."

Booth's eyes shot up to her face. "These stab wounds happened at different times?"

"As I said, I can't be completely sure of that until I examine the evidence at my lab, but from my observations here, yes, I believe this wound was made earlier."

Booth gaped at her then turned his eyes back to the photo. "But…that changes _everything._"

----------

"The first stab wound here, in the intercostal muscle between ribs 6 and 7 was the cause of death." Brennan leaned over the exam table and pointed at the space between two ribs. "The other three wounds were made approximately four hours later…with a different weapon."

"What weapon?" Booth questioned.

"I don't know yet. My team is working on it."

"Your team?"

"Yes, my team. You know, the group of people who have been stopping by and giving us reports for the last few hours."

"Oh, right. Them." Booth looked across the platform and saw one of the squints heading towards them now.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, I've been examining the nick on rib 6 and I've narrowed down possible weapons."

"Good, Zack. What do you have so far?" Brennan and her assistant leaned over the table.

"Well, obviously nothing serrated, although the cut isn't precisely smooth either."

"Hmm." Brennan pursed her lips and snapped on a pair of gloves, tracing the bone carefully.

"Angela's enlarging the pictures to see if we can get better detail on the sliced bone. I'll go see if she's ready."

Brennan nodded distractedly.

"So?" Booth prodded.

She said nothing; only a slight increase in her frown let him know she had heard his question.

"So?" he repeated, tapping her on the shoulder with his pen. "What did the kid find? Anything useful?"

Brennan straightened up and looked Booth in the eye. "He's not a kid. And he determined the weapon was neither serrated nor perfectly smooth."

"That's it?" Booth asked after a moment's pause, sounding disappointed. "That's all you've got?"

"So far, yes. You have to give us time. We can't just look through a microscope or do one test and then magically have the answer. There are processes to follow. Procedures. All of this takes time."

"Okay, but Temperance--"

"Dr. Brennan," she interrupted.

"What?"

"You shouldn't call me Temperance."

"Why not?" Booth asked, sounding a little insulted.

"Because we're no longer acquaintances who go to soccer games and grill out on your patio. We're in the lab where I work. As of four hours ago, I'm officially consulting the FBI on this case and we should remain professional. I'll call you Agent Booth. You'll call me Dr. Brennan."

"Umm, okay I guess." He shrugged. "Look if you and your squints are going to be a while here I'm going to head back home. I don't think Jared's going to be too pleased I left him with Parker for this long. And I'll have to come back in tomorrow. Now that we know the wounds occurred at different times, this completely changes the time frame of the case and I'll need to re-evaluate our suspects and do more interviews. If you find anything that will be helpful, call me, okay?" He began walking towards the exit.

"Sure. Or I can just tell you in person when I go on the interviews with you tomorrow."

"Wait, what?" Booth turned back around and stared at Brennan. "What interviews? You're not coming with me while I interview the suspects."

"Of course I am."

"No, you're not."

"Booth, I'm not going to simply be at your beck and call whenever you need my assistance. If you want me and my team to help you with your cases I want full participation."

"No. This is non-negotiable."

"Fine." She snapped off her gloves. "I'll just go tell my team they can stop spending their Saturday night working hard on this case to get you the factual evidence you need to find the murderer. I'm sure you and your FBI forensics team will figure it out eventually. Then again, they somehow managed to miss the fact that the wounds were made at different times by different weapons. But who knows? Maybe they'll get lucky this time around." She began walking away.

"Wait!" Booth felt his jaw twitch in annoyance. "Just so we're clear here: you're blackmailing me to get full participation on this case."

"Yes," she said simply.

His fists clenched at his sides and he looked, for a moment, as if he wanted nothing more than to sock her one right in the face. But his answer was laced with nothing but the engineered politeness of defeat. "Fine. I'll call you tomorrow."

Brennan grinned, and Booth couldn't help but notice that success looked good on her.

He turned away and walked through the doors leading out of the lab. He took out his cell phone and grimaced, knowing the following call would be a disaster. He dialed with trepidation. "Sir? It's Agent Booth." He paused and took a deep breath, savoring the calm before the storm. "I need your permission to take a squint into the field."


End file.
